


I Didn't Know I Was Lonely Til I Saw Your Face

by cryromantic



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Childhood Friends, Gen, Goddess Tower, M/M, Moon, Okay like squint and it's pre-slash, Pre-Slash, dimivain week 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:22:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22533937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryromantic/pseuds/cryromantic
Summary: Sylvain happens upon Dimitri at the Goddess Tower and a wish is made.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 9
Kudos: 82





	I Didn't Know I Was Lonely Til I Saw Your Face

**Author's Note:**

> Dimivain Week is here and I am living. I don't! Usually share my writings with a lot of people, but Dimivain makes ya do things I guess. The prompt I chose for this is moon.

“Now, where did she go…”

Sylvain let a girl lead him to the Goddess Tower. Spurred on by the little giggles and gasps in response to his whispers of sweet nothings. He had no plans to visit, Sylvain has no need of a Goddess-blessed forever, but she asked him to meet her here. Sylvain is nothing if not accommodating. Assuming, of course, it suits his needs.

And her soft curves are suitable for a very specific need.

Alas, his life can never be too easy. Sylvain has come all the way to the tower only to find no delicate, blushing maiden waiting for him at the entrance. He goes inside regardless. The chance that she went on without him is slim, but a chance is enough.

It is by the time he reaches the near top that Sylvain considers suffering through more dances. He foresees finishing another dull waltz with a duller partner. A slit of moonlight streaming in from the balcony door catches his attention. _Finally_.

“Found you!” sing-songs Sylvain, bursting his way into the night air. The triumph is short-lived. The figure awaiting him on the balcony is neither delicate, blushing, nor a maiden. He could leave, right now, as suddenly as he appeared. It is not too late to turn around before the surefire scolding starts.

“Sylvain?” asks an all too familiar voice. Alright then, damage control it is.

“Your Highness!” replies Sylvain, putting way too much emphasis on the last syllable. He is still in the doorway, standing with his arm outstretched. Seeing Dimitri outside the regular backdrops is enough to cause a brief state of shock.

Sylvain lowers his arm after too long a pause and places the usual hand on his hip. It’s a forced casualness, but Dimitri has never been good at reading body language. He arranges his mouth into an easy smile.

“Here you are.”

“Indeed,” says Dimitri, taking his hand off the railing to face Sylvain fully. He sounds wary, as he usually does when addressing Sylvain, which is fair. But, Sylvain has yet to do anything untoward this evening. Dimitri crosses his arms and Sylvain knows on an instinctual level that he is frowning.

“Am I in the way of your next liaison, then?”

Nearly a whole minute before Sylvain’s behavior came into question. Nice. Sylvain heaves a sigh and leaves the doorway.

“A liaison,” Sylvain starts, sounding put out, “I was worried after noticing my dear friend was absent and I’m accused of having liaisons?”

“You expect me to believe—”

“Honestly! The nerve!” says Sylvain throwing his arms up as he makes his way to the railing.

“Sylvain,” warns Dimitri, but Sylvain is nothing if not insistent.

“All those lovely ladies left waiting for a prince on the dance floor, ready to be consoled, but no.” Sylvain clutches his chest before continuing. “I thought ‘Where is His Highness?’”

Sylvain lets his shoulders slump as he takes up the space next to Dimitri.

“Really,” asks Dimitri, sounding unsure. Sylvain looks over to see a furrow in the royal brow and he smiles to himself. Phew.

“Really really,” says Sylvain. Easy. 

He leans his forearms on the balcony and looks out at their surrounding view. The moonlight paints the monastery in an almost comforting glow. It’s nothing short of beautiful and he has half a mind to comment on it, but a different thought occurs to him.

_Why is Dimitri here?_

There is no way he’s meeting someone, right? Dimitri does not have someone he is keen on making a lovers' promise with. If he did? Sylvain would have known about it.

_Right?_

They have drifted apart a little in recent years, through no fault of their own, but Dimitri can still talk to him. He used to tell Sylvain everything. They spent hours trading nonsensical secrets while tucked in their nest of blankets. Felix and Ingrid were there too, of course, but they were always better at falling asleep early.

“Hey, Your Highness, were you meeting someone here?” asks Sylvain. He turns his face toward Dimitri and is surprised to see his steady gaze already fixed on him. Dimitri turns his face away. Ending their first significant instance of direct eye-contact in years. Sylvain can hear faint _clinks_ as Dimitri curls the fingers of his gauntlets over the railing.

“Of course not,” he says, straight to the point as usual.

“Then?” Sylvain stands and Dimitri lets out a breath.

“Looking for a break from the festivities, I suppose.”

“Oh, riiight.” Sylvain’s lips quirk upwards for a moment. “And the tower famous for young lovers’ obscene wishes was the place for it?”

They both know it is a blatantly false statement, but it still earns Sylvain a quiet laugh. A rare gift indeed.

“Do you never rest, Sylvain?” The question is missing the usual edge. Dimitri is not criticizing, he is teasing. Maybe? Sylvain has no frame of reference for being teased by Dimitri. At least not the Dimitri who carries too many burdens to count. Sylvain purses his lips.

“Rest is for the dead, Your Highness.”

Sylvain can count his regrets on one hand, but this moment would be included. He wishes he could take back the words as soon as they escape his mouth. It was a stupid thing to say given their bloody histories. Dimitri’s even more so.

“ _Shit_ ,” says Sylvain. He scrubs his hand over his face. He prides himself on seeming thoughtless, but not like this. “Hey, Dimitri, do me a favor and don’t listen to me.”

A short _hm_ is all he gets in reply.

“I mean it. I’m the worst, I’ll say anything,” says Sylvain. He wants Dimitri to give him a response. Even a reprimand would be fine. He is in unknown territory here. They have never spoken about things like this. Not after Duscur. Not after their first experiences taking another person’s life. Definitely not after Miklan. They have offered their shoulders for the other to cry on, but talking is a different matter.

Who wants to give voice to their bad memories? Not Sylvain, that is for certain.

With this in mind, he does something he has not done since Dimitri was eleven and their largest concern was who would get to use the good training lance. 

Sylvain steps in close and drapes an arm over Dimitri’s shoulders. It occurs to him that with the prince’s armor in the way, the effect will be diminished. The heat from Sylvain will not seep through the thick layers separating them. He still tries.

“Hey,” says Sylvain. He leans in close. Hand splayed over Dimitri’s chest. “It was a bad joke, don’t think so hard about it."

Dimitri is tense, but little by little it eases away. Sylvain hums the first song that comes to mind. He straightens out the fasteners holding Dimitri's cape in place.

"Sylvain," says Dimitri before the song is finished.

"Yeah, Your Highness?"

"Why are you humming the national song of Faerghus?" 

Dimitri sounds so confused Sylvain has no choice, but to bark out a laugh. The prince turns to face him and the concerned look only further adds to Sylvain's amusement.

"What? You don't feel patriotism?" Asks Sylvain. He playfully cuffs Dimitri's chin. His hand is half-heartedly batted away.

"Do _you_?"

"Well," says Sylvain, putting his hand back over Dimitri's chest, "it's not a bad song. Better than the Empire's, I think."

He cannot speak for the Alliance. To be honest, Sylvain isn't sure they have one. Lorenz would know, but Sylvain is not about to ask for a cultural lesson. He would never escape. Speaking of, there is a sudden cold settling over his wrist and Sylvain looks down to see Dimitri’s hand covering his own.

“Perhaps that is your patriotism making you biased,” says Dimitri. His tone is light again and Sylvain is grateful for it. The mood has returned to normalcy. Well, as normal as you can be while pressed against another person. On a private balcony illuminated by soft moonlight. 

“I dunno about that. I would leave if I could,” he says.

Dimitri's eyes meet Sylvain’s for the second time this evening and Sylvain can see the flash of surprise. After that though there is something else. Understanding, maybe?

“Would that be your wish then?” Dimitri asks. Sylvain scoffs.

“Oh please, as if the Goddess could free a noble with a crest from their obligations.” 

“But if you just left…” Dimitri trails off. A nervous quality to his voice. Sylvain feels a little guilty again.

“Come on, I would never leave you.” Sylvain is attempting to soothe, but it is a true enough statement. Dimitri will need him when he ascends the throne. He would never leave him to deal with the other nobles of his court alone. “I know you would miss me too much.”

“Well yes,” replies Dimitri, smiling at Sylvain like he deserves it. Sylvain swallows past the sudden lump in his throat.

“Uh, ditto.” Sylvain pulls his hand from Dimitri’s grasp and turns to gaze back at the view. “Might as well share your wish with me, Your Highness. While we’re being emotional.”

“Ah, I haven’t prepared one I’m afraid.”

“ _Pre-_ ” Sylvain stifles a laugh. Who says that? Who prepares wishes in advance? Sylvain squeezes Dimitri’s shoulders. A half-hug type of thing. “Speak from the heart, Dimitri. I promise not to make fun of it.”

He feels a slight jab at his side and this time Sylvain does not bother to hide the laugh.

“ _Lies_ , Sylvain,” says Dimitri, but not unkindly. “But if you insist.”

Dimitri puts his hands back on the railing and Sylvain waits. His arm still around the prince’s shoulders. It is comfortable. 

_Comforting_ even.

“My wish is… for you to be happy, Sylvain.”

Oh.

Dimitri looks at him now. His eyes glittering with a fondness that Sylvain has never seen directed at himself. Sylvain considers a life where he does not see this look everyday and he realizes he would do anything to avoid it.

“Hey, what if I have another wish?”


End file.
